New York's Hottest
by Greer Bontro
Summary: You’ve heard of New York’s Finest and New York’s Bravest. Now meet New York’s Hottest. What Major Case stud will end up as beefcake on a charity calendar?


Title: New York's Hottest

Disclaimer: Dick Wolf owns it all. We just had a play date.

Summary: You've heard of New York's Finest and New York's Bravest. Now meet New York's Hottest. What Major Case stud will end up as _beefcake_ on a charity calendar?

Characters: Goren, Eames, Logan, Deakins, Barek

Rating: K+

Spoilers: None

Genre: Humor

Reviews welcome. Feel free to write your own spin-off of this. It's not like we have any copyright goin' on here.

Place: Major Case Bullpen

It was just a normal day at the Major Case squad. As normal as it ever gets dealing with murderers, wackos, psychopaths and felons. Everyone was in the office at the moment, scribbling on the dreaded paperwork that never seemed to end. Detective Alexandra Eames dropped her pen momentarily so she could flex her fingers. _I wonder if you can get carpal tunnel syndrome from too much writing with a pen? Probably not, or I would have it already._ Eames heard the soft _ping_ her laptop made when a new message arrived in her mailbox. Hoping that it would distract from the paperwork, she looked at her screen. Much to her surprise it showed a return email address as the NYC Police Commissioner. _Why the hell would he be emailing me? Am I in trouble? Are we in trouble, glancing quickly across the desks at her partner?_

"That panicked expression is, uh…unbecoming, Eames. Just open the Commissioner's email." Goren didn't even look up from his paperwork to talk to her. Jeez, that was annoying.

Eames resisted the urge to swat Goren because she knew her short arms wouldn't reach him across the two desks. She'd tried it before.

"How the hell did you know…oh… you must have received one, too. Did you open yours yet, Goren?"

"What? And interrupt the writing of this enchanting report on Cultural Arts' Commissioner Toots Bakowski's penchant for ladies' lingerie, particularly while said ladies were still wearing it? Tell me what the email says, Eames."

_I really should smack him_.

Instead, she clicked to open the Commish's message and read it aloud:

The NYPD and the NYFD will be participating in a joint charitable project

to benefit the September 11th Funds. It will be a tasteful calendar consisting of six male

officers from each service. We are now taking nominations for subjects to pose for the

calendar. It is not a popularity contest, multiple nominations do not guarantee

inclusion in the calendar. All nominations will be seriously considered.

I am delighted to announce that the renowned, world famous photographer,

Rita Siciliano, has graciously agreed to personally handle all the photography. It is an

honor to have her prestigious name and professional reputation associated

with this project.

Please email your nominations to the departmental PR Officer, Paloma Papparazzi, by

next Monday. All officers are encouraged to participate in this most worthwhile charitable endeavor.

"Did you catch that last line?" asked Goren, finally looking up and waving his left hand, " 'All officers are encouraged to participate…' "?

"I think we know what that means," said Eames.

"Yeah, it means the brass will have your ass if you even think about refusing," put in Mike Logan.

Logan and his partner, Carolyn Barek, had walked over when they heard Eames reading aloud.

"Goren, I can _so_ see you in a tasteful _Speedo™_," snickered Logan.

Eames and Barek giggled while Logan ducked the plastic ruler that Goren had flung at him

"Don't even go there, Logan."

"What?...You're more the low-slung baggy shorts hip-hop type?" grinned Logan, while Eames and Barek cracked up. The mere thought of the 6'4" Goren in those ridiculous shorts that boys now wore was just too hysterical to contemplate.

"Yeah, I wear them with my _Ice-T_ shirt," snapped back Goren, trying to sound annoyed, but not succeeding, "And I can picture you, Mike, in swim trunks and a wife-beater that says _Staten Island Life Guard._"

"Ouch!" responded Logan, laughing.

"Well, I think both you guys would be terrific candidates for the calendar," said Barek.

"Fuhgeddaboutit, Caro. They are gonna take guys who are a good fifteen years younger than us. Those buff guys who spend every off-duty minute in the gym working out. You know, the kind who can bench-press my SUV."

"Logan's right," added Goren, "Thank god. They won't look at guys over 40. We should be safe from this nonsense."

"Hey, guys, what's going on?" Captain Deakins approached the group, "Did everyone see the email from the Commish?"

"We were just discussing it, Captain. Barek and I think Logan and Goren should try for it, but they seem to think that only the young studs will be selected," grinned Eames.

"I happen to know that the Commish is looking for _diversity_ in this project," replied Deakins.

"Diversity? That means buff younger guys who are black, Hispanic or Asian," commented Logan.

"Well, it doesn't matter what you think, Logan," grinned Deakins, "because the Chief of D's secretary, Isabella, already emailed me that she has nominated both you and Goren."

The stunned looks on the faces of Goren and Logan were….well…priceless. Eames and Barek found it quite unusual to see either Bobby or Mike with that _deer-in-the-headlights_ expression. And the women were enjoying every second of it.

"Oh, shit," came out of Goren and Logan simultaneously.

"You guys _did_ read the last line of the Commish's message?" Deakins reminded them as he strolled back to his office.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Logan," whispered Goren, "what the hell are we gonna do to make sure we don't end up as _playmate of the month_?"

"Uh….eat like a pig and gain fifty pounds in the next two weeks? Start dressing like homeless guys and skip taking showers?"

"Oh, will you two cut it out already?" said Eames, shaking her head.

"Haven't you ever seen any of Rita Siciliano's work?" asked Barek, "She is absolutely brilliant. And she doesn't do sleaze. I doubt she'll be turning this project into a _Cosmo_ spread a la Burt Reynolds."

"You mean like holding my badge in front of a strategic place?" grinned Logan.

"The badges should certainly cover everything you two need," snickered Eames.

Goren and Logan managed to turn the same shade of red simultaneously.

The following Tuesday.

Captain Deakins came out of his office accompanied by a 30-something Indian guy with a bleach blonde crewcut. The man was dressed in black jeans, a black turtleneck, and black Italian leather loafers with no socks. A small digital camera hung from a clip on his belt loop.

"Detectives Goren and Logan, this is Vijay Sohoni," introduced Deakins. "He works for Rita Siciliano. Mr Sohoni will be taking some stills of you right here in the office. I appreciate you taking time for the Commisioner's project."

Goren and Logan looked like they'd rather be…….on Staten Island. But, they were smart enough to play nice.

"Detectives, I need to photograph you independently," said Sohoni, "If you would just sit at your desks and continue working. We are not doing any poses today."

Goren and Logan resumed sitting at their desks, writing reports, examining evidence. Vijay snapped photos of each of them, finishing in about half an hour.

Ever helpful, Eames asked Vijay if he needed to use her computer to email the photos to Rita Siciliano.

Vijay laughed. "My camera has wireless built into it. It already sent the pictures to the studio, but thank you for the offer. And thank you, Detective Goren, and you, Detective Logan, for your cooperation."

"Before you leave, Vijay, can you tell us how nominees find out whether or not they have been selected for the calendar?" asked Barek.

"The selection, made by Rita Siciliano and several other professional photographers, is based primarily on the photogenic qualities of the officer. Those selected will be notified independently. They will come to the studio or to another location for their photo shoot. There will not be any announcement of the winners prior to publication of the calendar. And winners will be required to not reveal their selection to anyone prior to publication."

Before Vijay left he wished Goren and Logan good luck. All those two could manage was a nod in return.

One month later.

Detective Goren made his way to Rita Siciliano's studio in the East Village. He was greeted by Vijay Sohoni and another member of Siciliano's staff, Diego de la Vega. He had been instructed to not shave that morning and to not have his hair cut for at least three weeks prior to the shoot. No rings, no earrings; not that he ever wore earrings. They had requested his height, weight, clothing size, and shoe size ahead of time. Here he was and he had no idea what they were going to do with him. His greatest fear at the moment was being embarrassed in front of the entire NYPD, particularly his colleagues at Major Case. The Commissioner's project had put him between a rock and a hard place. Refusal was not an option. Best to just get it over with.

Rita Siciliano swept into the room with her bubbling energy. Goren estimated her age to be fifty-something, a trim fifty-something. She shook his hand and welcomed him to the project.

"I lost a lot of friends on September 11th, Detective Goren. This helps me to cope and to make something good come out of the worst nightmare in modern American history."

Goren nodded. "Then I am glad to help however I can."

"Every fireman and cop that has come through my door has been petrified that he's going to have to appear in his tighty whities, or less, on the calendar. That is definitely not the look we are going for. Do you feel better now?"

Goren let out a sigh of relief, "Uh, yes. A lot better."

"Detective, thank you for not cutting your hair. I like the look of your hair a tad longer than you probably wear it. Is that OK with you?"

"Uh, sure."

"I have two different outfits that you will be photographed in. We will then choose the better of the two later on. Diego here will help you get changed."

Diego led Goren to a dressing room. Bobby was surprised to see normal-looking attire. A few minutes later he was back in the studio, dressed in the first outfit.

"Ah, very nice, Detective. Thank you for _not_ shaving this morning. It adds to the look we're aiming for."

Siciliano made a few adjustments to Goren's clothing. He was comfortable with it.

"Oh, Detective, there is something else," Siciliano grinned, "There will be two other people in the photo with you."

As if on cue, Diego escorted in Dakota and Omari. Goren turned to see them. They were both just beautiful. He was immediately enchanted. He flashed a big smile at Dakota and Omari, as well as Siciliano.

Diego positioned all three subjects according to Siciliano's instructions.

"Dakota, put your head on Detective Goren's shoulder, please. And then lay your hand on his chest. That's it."

Goren was feeling very relaxed. This was going much better than he had ever expected.

"Omari, please go on the other side of Detective Goren."

Omari followed the instructions. Diego positioned Omari just so. Siciliano took at least a dozen shots.

"Now, Detective, would you please change into the other outfit? Then we will do it all over again."

Back to the dressing room, take it off, put on the other outfit. Walk back out into the studio. Diego immediately made adjustments similar to the last outfit.

Dakota and Omari rejoined Goren. Head on his shoulder, hand on his chest. Omari on other side. Lights, camera, flash! Another dozen shots. And they were all done.

Goren hugged Dakota and Omari, "That was really nice. You made me look good. Thank you both."

Siciliano was grinning, "So, Detective, did you enjoy our little ménage a trois?"

"Yes, very much so. Thank you for making this painless." He smiled and shook hands with Siciliano, then went to change back into his own clothes and go back to work.

Two days later.

Mike Logan had visited an upscale yuppie salon for a haircut prescribed by Rita Siciliano nine days ago. She didn't want the he-just-had-a-hair-cut look in her photographs. He was clean-shaven as specified. Now he was at the East Village studio, with the same fears as Goren had, afraid of looking like an idiot in front of his peers.

Rita Siciliano introduced herself and put him at ease. She described what attire he would be wearing. She noted his sigh of relief, glad that he wouldn't be bare-ass naked, even if it was for charity.

Diego led Logan to the dressing room, helped him change, added the necessary accessories. One was a little unusual for Logan, but he figured _what the hell._

"Are you really OK with this, Detective Logan?" inquired Siciliano, "This isn't what we originally had in mind for you."

"Yeah, I'm cool with it."

"I need a big grin, Detective. A cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. Can you do that?"

Logan responded by looking precisely like that cat that had eaten that canary.

"Very good, Detective! I'd guess that your suspects find that grin intimidating."

"You can bet on it," grinned Logan.

Lights, camera, flash! A dozen shots later and they were finished.

Mike Logan very graciously shook hands with Rita Siciliano.

"Thanks. This could have been awful. It was actually fun. I'm honored to be a part of the project."

Two months later, the first week of November.

"The calendars are supposed to come out today. You can tell me now if you're in it, Goren," said Eames. She had been after Goren for weeks about this. If he was in it, he wasn't spilling the beans. Logan either. Maybe neither one was chosen. After all it was only six cops and six firemen. Hundreds had apparently applied. Anyone's chances of being chosen were slim.

Goren just looked at her. Raised his eyebrows a tad. Didn't give away a thing.

Deakins walked out of his office carrying a large carton. The room went silent.

"Anyone want to see the _New York's Hottest Calendars_?" grinned the Captain.

A mob clamored around Deakins instantly. Eames noticed that Goren and Logan were hanging back. They were maintaining their cop faces that gave away nothing. _Now, does that mean that they know they're in it or they know that they're not?_ _Oh, shit, just grab a calendar and start looking!_

As everyone grabbed a calendar, the room went silent.

"Ohmigod, Goren! Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy your picture is?" asked Eames.

"Sexy? I'm completely clothed. So is everyone else in the photo."

"You just don't get it, do you, Goren?" sighed Eames.

"Uh…apparently not."

"Goren, there is nothing…. absolutely nothing… sexier to a woman than a man protecting children."

"Oh."

Eames held up the page of Goren as _Mr. May_. He was dressed in a tuxedo with a red cummerbund. The jacket was gone, the tie on, but it was dangling not tied, the two top buttons of the shirt were open, there were black button studs on the white shirt, his sleeves were rolled up a couple times revealing his strong forearms. A large gold-toned watch adorned his right wrist, accentuating the powerful arms. He had a five o'clock shadow and his hair was a little longer than usual. He was standing tall, feet spread apart. His service revolver was in its black leather shoulder holster, plainly visible on his right side against the white shirt. He had his left arm around a gorgeous blue-eyed tow-headed blonde who couldn't have been more than two years old. She was perched on his left hip, the right side of her face resting against his massive shoulder, her tiny left hand splayed on his chest. On Goren's right was four year old café-au-lait little boy. The boy's small left hand was clasped in Goren's huge right hand; the boy's right hand was placed on top of Goren's hand. Both children were gazing at Goren, while the big detective looked straight ahead. No one was smiling. They were standing in front of a smoking ruin.

Eames, Barek and the other women from their work area were nearly in tears. Goren had never anticipated the emotional response the photo would evoke.

"Bobby, this is absolutely stunning. Where on earth was it taken? A fire scene?"

"It's…uh, the kids made me look good, Eames. They were just beautiful." said Goren modestly, "And, umm…it was photographed in the studio, so Siciliano must have added the background later."

Their concentration on Goren's photo was interrupted by shrieks from the other side of the room. Someone had spotted Mike Logan in the calendar, _Mr. July_.

Logan, ever the class clown, had convinced Siciliano to change her plan for his shoot. He told her the story about how he was banished to Staten Island for punching a city councilman. At first Siciliano considered putting Logan in boxing trunks, gloves, leather boxing shoes, but he wasn't crazy about that. They decided to go with the crack Goren had made. Mike Logan was in print jams bathing trunks and a white wife-beater with _Staten Island Life Guard _stenciled on the front. Logan had a athletic build and the lifeguard look showed it off well. They had given him a little help with his tan thanks to self-tanning products. He wore trendy sunglasses perched on top of his head, and a chunky sport watch on his left wrist. They added a lifeguard's whistle on a lanyard around his neck. Siciliano made him a little edgier by giving him a small gold hoop earring in one ear. Logan loved edgy. He was perched up on a wooden life guard stand with his arms stretched out across the back of the stand. And he sported the ­cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. Mike Logan looked damn good. He looked like the king of the world.

Eames marveled at how good the calendar photos were. She continued turning the pages. The real shocker came when she got to _Mr. September._

"Oh...my….god…! Will you look at this!"

Goren, Logan and Barek crowded around Eames, staring at _Mr. September_. Their mouths just hung open. The photo was of a man in a white dinner jacket, white shirt with black button studs, black cummerbund, black dress slacks. He was tanned, his hands were in his pants pockets, his jacket open. He was standing on the patio of a country club, in front of a set of French doors. Behind him the room was lit, a dance or party in full swing. The sun was just setting. The man was gazing at someone or something just out of camera range. And he had a black patch over one eye.

"Wow!" said Barek ,"Captain, you look like a million bucks!"

"Very ho…er, ah…. James Bond-ish, sir," added Eames. _You can't tell your boss that he looks hot, for god's sake._

Deakins was standing in front of them, turning slightly pink.

"I can't believe I got sucked into this. Isabella didn't warn me that she had also entered my name."

"Uh, Captain," said Logan, "You realize that when your wife sees this photo …well, you're gonna have to, ummm… _live up to it_."

"You think I haven't figured that out yet, Logan?" replied Deakins, grinning, "I've already booked us on a Caribbean cruise. I'm not stupid."

"And, Logan, I like your attitude. _Staten Island Life Guard_! Where the hell did you get that shirt? I'd give anything to be a fly-on-the-wall when that councilman sees it."

"Me, too, Captain," grinned Logan, "And it was Goren's idea."

"Goren?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"I've never seen a cop look finer than when he's taking care of kids. And I noticed the big impression it made on the ladies."

"The kids were terrific, Captain. The boy, Omari, his father is a fireman and the little girl, Dakota, her mother is a cop in the two seven. They were wonderful. They made me look really good. I must admit the women's reaction really surprised me."

"Goren," sighed Deakins, "The way to a woman's heart may well be with a child in your arms."

FIN.


End file.
